The week started off with a.

Which is good since the month is going to end with a wee little whimper.

I just got in from a twelve-hour shift book ended by two brisk bicycle rides up and down Lincoln Avenue.

The weather delicious.

Wind slight.

The deep, dark, damp smell of the evergreen trees lining the right of the road as I sail down the avenue toward the dark husking rasp of the ocean is as erotic and soothing as you could want any sound to be.

Today, again, this morning, I had a terrible desire to call in sick, to play hooky.

I mean, did you see the weather this morning.

The sea was gorgeous and I had to tear my eyes off it, the brief glance I had as I shot through the stop sign at Irving and 46th to hit my right turn up Lincoln a block later.

I felt quite compelled to simply wheel my bicycle back into the garage and post a sign on the door: “Gone Fishin'”

Or “gone to the beach, see you when it gets foggy”.

May that not happen for a little while yet.

The weather, though not Indian Summer warm, is quite lovely and I do enjoy the bicycling.

I thought to myself as I hit my stride, “God damn I love my legs.”

I do.

Although my knees, well, my knees make me nervous.

I feel that a check up is due and real damn soon.

I will probably schedule that for the end of the month, when the last week of the month is WIDE open.

I have no work.





And last, but oh yes, least.


It’s Thanksgiving.

The American High Holy Holiday of turkey, over satiated food comas, football, and homemade pie.

Well, they used to be homemade.

At least when I was making them.

I do miss the baking thing once in a while.

Not the eating it so much, I like how I am looking again, dropped the Paris 15 and the consistent bicycling and nanny hauling and toting and pushing of the stroller, has slimmed me back down.

Thank full for that.

Thanksgiving has stopped being a holiday I do much about a long while back.

Granted, I appreciate it.

I appreciate the ideal and I get grateful for those in my life, but I ain’t gonna go see those in my life that I would should I have the compunction to do so at this time.


I will do my little family deal in January and call that a night.

Getting back to the end of November, though, both the families I do the majority of my nanny work for will be out-of-town.

Neither one will need my services.

Top that with the other gig being on a Thursday, which is Thanksgiving, natch, I have a week with nothing happening.

I am not worried, yet, the anxiety may rustle its little head at some point, but all this week I am working.

I am working 9-10 hour days the rest of the week, plus the twelve on today.

It won’t make up for the loss of a weeks work, but it will help.

And I have noticed, maybe you have too, that I always do appear to be taken care of just fine, so worry.

Who me?

Not yet.

I have a feeling I will be doing something wildly fun.


No clue.

But something will be happening.

Until then I will just keep trucking along doing this week and keeping my attention and focus on the next nanny hour in front of me.

I did not do any outside writing today either.

There are going to be days like that and I know it and I am completely ok with it.

I wrote my three pages long hand this morning, actually I got a wind of something that need to be addressed and wrote four and a half pages.

Include my blog and I am still doing the writing.

Just not the auxiliary writing.

I could not bring myself to do it at work.

At one house the grandparents were visiting, which is lovely, but you can’t be letting your guard down.

Grandparents look all cuddly and sweet, but you are watching their most treasured possession, you best be on your game.

And you don’t ever know when grandpa is suddenly going to be asleep on the couch.

He just fell out.

It was actually sort of cute.

I will be sneaking in some writing tomorrow between work and a commitment at 6:30p.m.

What I realized today, what I wrote about last night, what I wrote about this morning is that it doesn’t matter.

The challenge that is.

I am feeling a need to be flexible with myself and step off a little.

Who the hell is telling me that I am not doing enough?

I do want to write and I do want to write stories and novels and screen plays, poems, and well, not limericks, I hate limericks, but maybe a novella or a zine or…

The point is, that I don’t need some outside thing to prompt me to write.

I already have the prompting in my head.

I carry the notebook with me and I jot down when I have time to do so.

And then I do that awesome thing called living.

Despite it being a jam-packed week I am taking Wednesday evening to go get my Mike Doughty on.

That sounds dirty.

Frankly, I could get down with getting dirty with Mister Doughty, and you feel free to pass that along.


I will dance.

I will sing.

I will be one of those people

And I won’t give one good god damn what people think.

I haven’t been to a show in a while either, so I am looking forward to it from that standpoint as well.


Before you know it, the weekend will be here and I will have a nice couple of days to do…

Well, I don’t know yet.

I am going to attempt to not book myself too full, be open to continued flexibility.

I have an invitation to do some ecstatic dancing on Sunday.

That could be some good times.

I have a few folks I am meeting for coffee in the morning and early afternoon on Saturday.

But nothing set in stone.

Let’s see what the week brings.

No need to live for Friday when today is right here with a big cup of tea.

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